Lonely Little Slaughterhouse
by FallenAngelofFangirls
Summary: A gruesome story of anger, sorrow, and hope. A little too much hope. Features the cast of the first game.
1. Prelude

The laughter faded long ago.

We sit silently Backstage. There is only silence, but I feel it echoing. The crying, the screams… but also the laughter. It all rushes back no matter how many times I try to push it away. It all scares me because I lose myself… Every time I think of the horrors I have experienced in the robotic body, I forget a little more of when I was human. A tender child of flesh and bone and blood.

I try to cry, but all that comes out is robotic recreations of wheezes and sobbing. There is no way for me to cry. I wish I could just go into some sleep mode, but everything has been disabled. Throughout all the day, we must sit defenselessly back here, set to do only nothing. It makes me angry, but I have no power to express that. I can't even lift my arms. Or kick my legs. All I can do is move my eyes and make noise. Even my jaw joint refuses move. My maw just hangs open lazily.

Sometimes, rebellious kids come in and mess with us. We don't make any noise when they are here. We just let it happen. When we get sick of them, we move our eyes. They get scared and leave. There is nothing else we can do. There is nothing else to do. We used to talk to each other, discussing our hopes to be remodelled and rebooted.

But now it's been 23 years. There is no hope.

Every few nights, after the sun dips below the line of the horizon, one of us will try to move. The others can tell. Sometimes the joints will creak, or their efforts make a noise like we are out of breath. But no one ever moves. We just want to get up. See what has happened to the pizzeria. See what is going on in the kitchen.

See if **he **is here again.

We live here, Backstage, in fear. We don't want to be here.

Why didn't they just terminate our programs?

W**el**l, maybe _on_e day… We **wou**ld… g_e_t an _**answer**_.


	2. Chapter 1

**Sorry this took so long! I had to change it a bit because of FNAF 3, but hopefully it will still make sense with the new addition.**

They came. The men.

I would've tensed if my body was that of muscle.

They came and took parts, pizza boxes, pictures… Many things were touched, examined, even marveled over. I was surprised by the extreme interest and care given.

But they spared us not a glance. Not a word. Not a _care_.

Why? Why do they do this? Such a terrible thing it is to come into our home and not even greet us…

But then they spoke.

"Hey, look! It's Foxy!" He extended his finger out, pointing it at me. I was tempted to look up at him, but I didn't want to frighten the man…

"Oh, yeah! You know, he was always my favorite. It's a shame this place got shut down." My heart lit at the idea of this man being a **fan **of mine. A fan? A _fan?!_ Someone who cares!

I moved my eyes upwards, a darting movement, to look at the speaker. He jumped and looked frightened. I felt the other animatronics' stares on me. They expected me to speak. To show we were **alive**. We had spoken of it before.

"What will we do if someone comes back?" Chica's shrill, girlish voice rings out.

"That's a good question, Chica. Freddy?" Bonnie was good at making tiny comments to fill the silence in conversations.

"Well… If they talk to us, we will talk back. Show them we live, despite them trying to kill us. Show them they were wrong. That we are not dangerous." Freddy played a voice track of sighing. "We just had the kid's best interest in mind. We didn't want them to feel our pain."

I had to speak. I had to say **something**. I made some rattling noises as I exercised my raspy voice box, preparing my enthusiastic pirate vocabulary in a pattern to create a small speech.

"Ay, there, human. It is a cryin' shame that we are locked back here, yeah?" He looked terrified. I hope he doesn't run. I hope they don't leave.

Hope, _hope, __**hope.**_

"Ye humans were favorites of ours, too, lads. But no one seems to care about us buckets o' bolts no more."

The fear changed. Sympathy sparked in their eyes.

"W-well, we never forgot about you. We just b-bought the building, but we're not sure what we will do with it yet…" The man who was my **fan **spoke.

Chica's eyes moved upwards. Her voice rang out, sweet and girlish. It was the first time she had spoken since 7 years ago.

"If you'd please, do not simply throw us in the trash. They may have 'disabled' us, but we still live. It would be even worse to exist but not have an existence."

The first man, the one who pointed me out, spoke now. "We… could fix the restaurant. We would have to contact the company. But first… I have a question." My **fan** elbowed him in the ribs, giving him a disapproving look.

"And what would that be?" Freddy finally spoke. He hadn't spoken since the first year. I wonder if the _hope _had filled him, too.

"Are… Are you guys AIs, or are you… human souls?" My **fan **looked scared for his life.

"We are human. Or… we were." Freddy didn't know how to explain. **I did.**

"We were wee little lads and a lass. It was back when the ol' pizzeria was still in action, the wonderland composed with twists and turns of hard plastic and games." Bonnie continued when I stopped, to fill the silence he had been sitting in since year 6. His soft voice was kind and gentle.

"We were all pals, us 5. We were following the gold Freddy." Freddy butt in, like he always did.

"And I'm sure you heard of the 5 children who went… missing."

The men looked like they had put it all together, but then the question was flung out:

"_Where's the fifth?"_


	3. I'm Sorry

This story is being discontinued. I apologize for any inconvenience.

Find me on Archive of our Own under IntergalacticWanderlust.


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